blossoming even as we gaze
by Dulcet Petrichor
Summary: Anne Archibald and Lily van der Woodsen watch their children grow up.


**Fandom:** Gossip Girl  
**Title: **_blossoming even as we gaze_  
**Pairing: **Nate/Serena  
**Rating: **G  
**Word Count: **2, 471  
**Spoilers:** none  
**Summary:** Anne Archibald and Lily van der Woodsen watch their children grow up.

* * *

**blossoming even as we gaze**

It's Sunday brunch at Bart Bass' hotel, and Lily van der Woodsen is gushing over the adorable little two-year-old boy comfortably ensconced in Anne Archibald's lap. "Your son is so handsome!" she coos, gentle fingers tracing the delicate line of the tiny chin powdered in baby fat. "Such _blue _eyes. He's going to be a real heartbreaker someday. The girls won't stand a chance."

"Heavens, _my _heart is breaking just imagining it!" Anne jokes, affecting a playful shudder. But then the sparkle of merriment fades from her face as she glances around the table, making sure that the other women are too engrossed in their own conversations to hear what she's about to say, and she leans closer to Lily. "Howard and I think that there may be a... problem," she confides in almost a whisper. "We suspect that Nate is--- _special."_

The corners of Lily's mouth tilt in a puzzled smile. "Anne, all of us consider our kids special. I don't see how---"

"The _other _kind of special, Lily."

"What other kind of--- oh!" Lily's voice rises as comprehension sinks in. Ever mindful of social etiquette, she checks to make sure she hasn't drawn unwanted attention before turning back to Anne and speaking in lower tones. "Oh, darling, why on earth would you think that?"

A slight tremble runs through Anne's hand as she strokes the top of her son's head. "He's... he's very quiet, Lily. _Awfully _quiet. Children his age are supposed to babble on for hours, aren't they? But Nate hardly says a _word. _He calls Howard and me 'Dada' and 'Mama' on occasion, but most of the time he just sits silently, staring off into space. That's not... _normal, _is it?"

"Well, it's a bit unusual," Lily slowly concedes, "but nothing to be alarmed about. Some babies aren't talkative, and that's that. In fact, some can be _too _talkative---"

"Mommy!" A shrill voice pierces the air, and a cannonball, dressed in pink satin and white lace, barrels into Lily's knees. "Mommy mommy mommy mommy! Want cake! Cake!"

"Speak of the devil," Lily dryly remarks as she scoops her child into her arms, waving away the nanny who's rushed up to the table, panting. "Serena, say hello to Mommy's friend."

"Hi!" Serena shouts, loudly enough to make Lily wince and several heads turn. The frowns of disapproval turn into fond smiles as people catch sight of the beautiful little girl.

"Oh, what an absolute _dear," _Anne remarks, her heart melting as Serena dimples up at her.

"She's a brat, that's what she is," Lily mutters. Serena wriggles in her lap, cheerfully burbling nonsense phrases a mile a minute.

"Come now, Lily, don't be too hard on--- Nate, sweetheart, _no!" _Anne admonishes in horror, because Nate has reached out to grab Serena's long, golden hair.

Instead of yanking at it, however, he merely encloses a few thick strands in his small and chubby fist. "Pretty," he gurgles, sighing in contentment.

The women are too surprised to immediately react, but Serena scoots closer to Nate and pokes his cheek. "Hi!" she cries again, and then the two toddlers are conversing in meaningless strings of giggles and gibberish, over the distance between their mothers' laps. It appears to be a discussion on the merits of cake, although the adults can't be completely sure.

"Well," Lily says, raising an eyebrow at Anne, "it looks like your problem's solved."

* * *

Serena storms into the van der Woodsens' summerhouse in the Hamptons, cheeks flushed pink with sun and fury. "Nathaniel Archibald is a jerk and I'm _never _speaking to him again!" she declares, as firm and indignant as only a wronged eight-year-old can be.

Lily glances up from her magazine. "Never say never, my love." She's actually more curious than she lets on, because she can't remember when Nate and Serena last fought. She has a sneaking suspicion this is the first time.

Serena stamps her foot. "He ran into my sandcastle! The sandcastle I was building for _hours. _He completely destroyed it!"

"Why would he do that?"

"He was flying his stupid kite and he didn't look where he was going and _so---"_

"Sounds like an accident, honey."

"Nate's _face _is an accident," Serena mutters, stalking away.

Much later, Lily's about to go into the backyard with a tall, cold glass of Long Island iced tea, but Nate and Serena are already there. Lily hangs back, feeling only a little bit ashamed of herself for eavesdropping.

"I'm sorry," Nate's saying, eyes on the ground, but his hand is extended, holding out a clumsily arranged bouquet of flowers--- flowers that, Lily realizes with some amusement, he must have picked from the neighbours' gardens. "I really didn't see your sandcastle. I know you worked hard on it and I wish I had a time machine so I could go back and _not _trip and maybe I would have helped you make it instead of flying kites with Chuck but--- anyway, I'm really sorry," he finishes lamely.

"I'm sorry, too," Serena replies in a soft voice. "I shouldn't have yelled. I think I was just in a bad mood because it was so hot. You know I don't usually get mad about stuff like that."

"Friends?" Nate says, a hint of shyness creeping in, even as hope gleams in his ocean-blue eyes.

"Forever." Serena takes the bouquet and inhales its fragrance. "That sandcastle was butt-ugly, anyway."

They smile at each other over the flowers. Lily rolls her eyes at such sappiness and walks off to drink in peace.

* * *

Now that Nate's eleven years old and slowly drifting away from his mother, as all boys must, Anne finds comfort in cleaning his room by herself. She may not be as fun to play with as Blair, Chuck and Serena, and she may not be knowledgeable about "guy stuff" like Howard, but, by God, she could clear away his mess and fold his clothes.

She picks up a pair of his school trousers which he's thrown haphazardly on the floor, and finds a crumpled wad of notebook paper in the back pocket. She fishes it out and smoothens it, squinting to read the different kinds of penmanship that float along the white spaces.

The first line is in neon pink, a girl's handwriting, large and loopy, hearts instead of dots. _i'm bored what are you doing?_

Below that, in blue ink, Anne recognizes Nate's chicken-scratch scrawl. _Serena you can't pass notes in class, you're gonna get in trouble!!_

_so why'd you write back? _is the sassy reply.

_You have a good point_

_i always do._

Here, the handwriting changes, a neat, pointed cursive, in purple ink. _N, S, pay attention! I'm not letting you guys copy off of me again. If you don't cut this out, I'm telling._

_Blair the tattle-tale. What else is new? _retorts a bold scrawl, in what is undeniably fountain pen ink. Anne wonders what sort of eleven-year-old writes with a fountain pen.

_SHUT UP CHUCK!!! _Serena's handwriting again, jagged and angry, but still with hearts instead of dots under the exclamation points. _blair's not like that!_

_Yeah Chuck, _says Nate, _get off her case_

_Man, why do you always take Serena's side? _Chuck asks. _We have a code, remember? Broes before hoes._

_Charles Bass, did you just call Serena and me hoes?!!_

_Hey, if the shoe fits..._

Nate's penmanship is more hurried now, as he rushes to defend. _Serena's not a hoe_

_So you're saying _I'm _a hoe? _Blair's "I'm" is underlined twice.

_No!! You too obviously, no one's a hoe except Chuck_

_I resent that, Nathaniel._

_um ok this note was a really bad idea so i'm just gonna stop writing now guys. talk to you all later at lunch xx._

_Yeah what Serena said_

Anne can't believe her little boy knows what a hoe is.

* * *

When Lily gets home, Nate and Serena are asleep in the den, a movie's end credits flickering in the shadowy half-light. They're tangled together on the couch, his arm over her shoulders, her head on his chest. Lily watches them in silence, debating whether or not to wake them up and send Nate back to his house. Not only is she sure that Anne must be worried by now, but, also, there comes a time in every mother's life when the concepts of _boy _and _girl _and _dark room _and _alone together _don't mesh well.

On the other hand, Nate and Serena aren't _quite_ thirteen, and Lily hasn't seen Serena sleep this soundly since William left...

Sighing, she draws a blanket over them, turns off the TV and leaves the room. Let them enjoy being children for a little while longer. God knows there would be enough growing up to do in the years to come.

* * *

"Serena has a boyfriend," Nate announces during dinner.

Anne pauses in the act of slicing her steak, having absolutely no idea how to respond to that. _And... that boyfriend is you? _she wants to prod, but something about Nate's expression tells her it's better to remain silent.

"His name is Carter Baizen. He's one of the older kids."

"Oh." Anne blinks. She'd always thought that Serena's first boyfriend would be Nate. Howard's away on business, so it's just the two of them at the table, and Anne is on unfamiliar ground, unsure how to proceed. "Well. Is he nice?"

"He's bad for her, so of course he's perfect in every way," Nate says, bitterness etching his features.

A mother wants her son to be happy, but she also wants what's best for him, and sometimes those two things are mutually exclusive. Anne loves Lily and Serena with all her heart, but, well, there's that saying about apples and falling and trees, and Lily's on her third _(third!) _divorce and she leaves her kids mostly un-chaperoned for months at a time and there's no telling what a free-spirited girl like Serena could get up to---

"Maybe it's for the best," Anne says aloud. Nate shoots her a glare, but she calmly reaches out to pat his arm. "Why don't you try asking other girls out? Oh, I know---" She brightens as an idea occurs to her. "What about Blair?"

"Blair?" Nate scratches his head, looking like a confused puppy. "She's Serena's friend..."

"Trust me, darling, that's never stopped anyone in the Upper East Side before."

* * *

Opening the door, Lily groans at the sight of Nate carrying a dishevelled, semi-conscious Serena. "Oh, for heaven's sake, it's only Tuesday."

Nate shrugs as best as he can, flashing a rueful grin. "Saint Patrick's, Mrs. V, what can you do?"

"I can lock her up forever, that's what I can do," Lily half-heartedly grumbles, stepping aside so Nate can enter. "For Serena, _every _day is Saint Patrick's." She moves to take her daughter from his arms. "Thanks, honey, I'll take it from here."

"No, Mrs. V, don't be silly. I'll help."

She manages a tired, grateful smile. They trek up the stairs, Serena clinging to Nate like a lifeline, and when Lily disappears into the bathroom to run a hot bath for her intoxicated fifteen-year-old, Nate deposits the girl onto the bed. Bits and pieces of their conversation float into the range of Lily's hearing, Serena's incoherent, slurred, sing-song ramble contrasting starkly against the deep beat of Nate's steady replies. Lily finds herself recalling the nonsensical hour-long talk the two had as toddlers, when Serena had drawn Nate out of his shell at that brunch, so long ago.

Perhaps it's that memory that makes Lily suck in a sharp breath when she comes out of the bathroom. Nate's leaning over the bed, Serena's hands clasped around his neck, their noses touching. They're grinning at each other, both long and lean and impossibly beautiful in the dim light. When did the children grow up? Oh, the things you can miss when you're not looking.

"What will I do without you?" Serena murmurs.

"You'll never have to find out," Nate promises her, earnest and intense.

Serena lets go of him, arms falling against the mattress. "You should go back to Blair now," she says, and Lily recognizes the expression on Serena's face. It's the same one her eldest used to adopt whenever she let Eric have the last cupcake, the bit lip and hooded eyes of happiness self-denied.

Nate straightens up. "Blair's going to be _so _pissed at you in the morning," he jokes, but there's a hint of sorrow and glancing regret in his voice.

Serena rolls over, burying her face in the pillow. "Oh, my God, save me," she moans.

"Always, S."

Lily walks Nate to the front door and bids him good night. When she returns to Serena's room, the girl is staring apprehensively at the ceiling, looking fragile and vulnerable.

"How do you feel?" Lily carefully asks.

"It hurts, Mom," Serena sighs. "But it's okay."

* * *

Nate graduates from Columbia University under a bright blue sky. Serena lets out a piercing wolf-whistle when he goes onstage to get his degree, while Chuck and Blair applaud. Anne feels a mixture of pride, elation and sorrow as she gazes upon her son, looking so tall and so _ready _to take on the world. He has an internship lined up and a flat along Fifth Avenue; her journey ends here, at the start of his.

Once the ceremony is officially over, Serena rushes to Nate's side. Chuck and Blair hang back and Anne passes them a quizzical look. Chuck, catching her eye, merely shakes his head, with a small, secretive smirk.

Nate grabs Serena by the waist and swings her around before pressing his lips to hers. Anne watches them. Things may not have worked out the way she'd planned, but they were undoubtedly _better, _because Nate without Serena was angry and sad and lost, and no mother should ever have to stand helplessly by, witnessing her son's heart break, as Nate's had when Serena left for boarding school, and again and again over the years, as he managed to lose her just when he thought he'd found her again. All in all, Anne was glad the two had finally gotten their act together, and---

And Nate gets down on one knee.

"Oh, _my," _Anne gasps, as the graduation caps sail into the air to the sound of exuberant cheers and the sunlight beats down on a sea of young and joyful faces.

"**But be most effective, the faces of the children would need to be painted in a blur, the way all children's faces truly are. For they blur as they run; they blur as they grow and change so fast; and they blur to keep us from loving them too deeply, for their protection, and also for ours."**

**Gregory Maguire**


End file.
